


Life without you, is not life.

by Bluebuell33



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Injured Sherlock, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock - Freeform, Lovers before the fall, M/M, Memory Loss, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Post-Reichenbach, Sad John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-02 02:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/pseuds/Bluebuell33
Summary: They were together before the Fall. Only for a few weeks, but together none the less. It had been the best few weeks for John. He had loved every moment, every hug, every snuggle on the couch, every touch and every heart stopping kiss. But it was not meant to be, he thought.Sherlock returns after two years, injured and in a coma.





	1. Chapter 1

They were together before the Fall. Only for a few weeks, but together none the less. It had been the best few weeks for John. He had loved every moment, every hug, every snuggle on the couch, every touch and every heart stopping kiss.  _But it was not meant to be,_  he thought. 

How John wished that he could have been enough for the great Sherlock Holmes. Enough that he wouldn't have jumped that fateful day.

This thought is what drove him to the bottle each night. Maybe if his last words to Sherlock hadn't been  ** _"_** ** _You_** ** _machine!"_**  Maybe Sherlock would still be here with him.  He had loved, still loved Sherlock with every part of his being, but maybe Sherlock hadn't loved him. They had never said it to each other before Sherlock jumped off St. Barts. Maybe he was just another of Sherlock's experiments that hadn't worked out. Maybe....Maybe... 

This was getting him nowhere. He need to stop this line of thought quick. John threw back the rest of the whiskey in his glass. This was his third glass tonight, soon maybe he would pass out in to a dreamless sleep. Maybe... Just maybe...

John heard his phone ping from where it sat on the coffee table in the sitting room. He glanced at the clock on the wall in the kitchen where he was sitting. 1am. Who could be texting him at this hour. 

 John walked in to the next room and opened his phone to check the text. 

**I believe we need to speak. Something has come to my** **attention** **. MH**

_Arrogant git,_ thought John as he stared at his phone. Two years since Sherlock jumped and now he needed to talk to him.  

_Mycroft could piss off,_  He thought as he set his phone back down and headed to the bedroom to sleep. He considered just passing out in his clothes instead of changing at this point. 

Another ping sounded from the coffee table. John paused trying to decide if he was going to check the message or not. A third ping. Curiosity got the best of him and he walked back to the phone. 

**You are going to want to hear what I have to say. MH**

**Get in the car John. MH**

_You have got to be kidding me, of course there was already a car waiting for him outside. Fuck_. Thought John as he grabbed his coat and keys and walked out the door. Mycroft was going to get a piece of his mind whether he wanted it or not. Good thing he was only buzzed and not completely drunk at this point.

As he stepped outside, sure enough there was a black car waiting for him. He opened the door and slid in to the back seat, a bit surprised to find Mycroft waiting in there. 

"Well I am here what was so urgent that it couldn't wait until morning? I mean it's only been two years since the last time we spoke." John didn't hide the sarcasm in his voice. 

"Good evening John. I apologies for the lack of speaking before this and for the lateness of the hour, but you have a right to know." Mycroft paused here as he seemed to be deciding on his words, which was not like him. 

"I have a right to know what, Mycroft? What is going on? Two years of nothing and now you drag me out in the middle of the night? Where are we going?  

"There has been a development and it's only fair you know about it." Again, Mycroft paused. "This is not how it was supposed to happen, He was supposed to tell you himself." Mycroft continued almost talking to himself instead of John. 

"Who Mycroft? Who was supposed to tell me what? John fumed, he was starting to lose what little patience he had left tonight.

"John... Sherlock is alive, has been since the fall." 

John didn't hear anymore, he felt life just stop. His heart fell to his stomach. Sherlock was alive. ALIVE! This whole time and no one felt that John had a right to know this or even thought to tell him. He guessed that answered the question of whether Sherlock loved him or not. Sherlock had been alive for the past two years, living god knows where, without John and never told him. Just left him behind as John's whole world fell apart. His heart broke even more, John didn't think it was possible at this point, but it did. He could barely breath, his chest felt like it was caving in. He pressed his hand to his chest willing the ache to stop, so he could breathe again. 

At this point he noticed Mycroft was still speaking to him.

"Wait back up, So Sherlock is alive, but he is in a coma at the hospital?" John asked still holding his chest. Maybe Sherlock hadn't just been laying on a beach somewhere enjoying his time free of John. 

Mycroft gave John a look of what? Sadness? Worry? Oh, this couldn't be good, Mycroft never looked worried. 

"MI6 were raiding a known drug lord in Serbia two days ago, when they found him.  He wasn't even supposed to be in that country. He has been in a coma, ever since they got him out." 

John was barely holding his anger and hurt in at this point. Mycroft had known that Sherlock was alive all this time and only now decided to tell him. 

"It wasn't mine to tell, John. I am sorry." 

Damn the Holmes brothers and their mind reading. 

"So, we are headed there, now right? To see...to see him?" John couldn't even get his name out. 

"Yes, we are arriving now."

"Good." John tried to rein in his anger and not focus on the ache in his chest. He just wanted to see him again. He would sort out the lies and emotions after that.  

"John, there is one more thing you should know before we go in... There is a chance he will not wake up and if he does wake up, he may memory loss." Mycroft added as the car stopped in front of the Hospital. 

There it was the other shoe. How bad was Sherlock injured? What had happened to him, while he was gone? What had he been doing these past two years? John wanted answers to all these questions and more, but first he just wanted to see him. See Sherlock once again. Not just the ghost that haunted John's dreams each night.  

Mycroft walked John as far as Sherlock' door then stopped. 

"I have to check with his doctors and give them the notice that you are to be kept up to date on his condition and have full clearance from me." With that Mycroft turned and walked away leaving John to see Sherlock alone. 

John steeled himself for what he would find on the other side of the door, before he opened it and stepped inside the room. 

Sherlock lay in the bed sleeping, hooked to a couple machines. His beautiful curly hair was cut short and shaved on one side, where there was stitches in his head. His face and arms were bruised with multiple cuts and gashes, how John wishes to be held by those arms again. Sherlock's prefect cupid bow lips, that brought back memories of passionate kisses on the couch, were chapped and split.  

John worried about how bad the rest of his body was under the hospital gown and blankets as he walked over to the bed to take Sherlock's hand in his. Even his hands didn't escape the horrible torture, Sherlock went through, not only bruised, but the right pinky was broken as well. John could feel the tears welling in his eyes as he carefully took Sherlock's hand in his. How he wanted to feel those hands touching his body again or leading him through a crime scene or watch them pick up Sherlock's violin to play hours of music just for John as they sat by the fire just enjoying the others company. 

"Why Sherlock? Why did you fake the fall and then leave me behind? Didn't you know how much I love you... Didn't you want me anymore? John dropped in to the chair beside Sherlock's bed, still holding his hand, he leaned his forehead down on their clasped hands and let the tears flow down his cheeks. 

In a moment he would get up and check Sherlock's chart, maybe talk to his doctor as well, but right now he was just going to let heartache from the past two years well up and pour out of him as he held the hand of the only man he would ever love.   

Over the next month, John stayed at the hospital with Sherlock each day and night, only leaving to eat and shower. Mycroft had brought him clothes and other things he needed. He had also told John about the three snipers for John, Greg and Mrs. Hudson that Moriarty had threatened Sherlock with. This is what Sherlock had been doing for the past two years, he was dismantling Moriarty's network piece by piece.

John's anger had lessened after learning this, but he still upset that Sherlock had not told him before disappearing. At this point he just wanted Sherlock to wake up and come back to him, though he had no idea where they stood now, or if Sherlock even still wanted him. 

It had been one month, one week and three days since they had found Sherlock, his wounds had healed, bruises had faded away and his curls with almost to their original length again. 

John sat in Sherlock's room reading a book, when he noticed Sherlock's hand move then his eyes start to blink open. He all but dropped his book and moved to Sherlock's side. 

"Sherlock? Sherlock? Can you hear me? John said his voice full of hope. 

Sherlock eyes opened and focused in on him, looking up and down. 

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"  

"What? Afghanistan. Sherlock? Do...Do you know who I am?" John said holding breath as his heart raced wildly in his chest. 

"You are clearly an Army Doctor, invalided home from Afghanistan after being shot in the shoulder. It still bothers you most days though it's been some time." Sherlock stated. 

God John had missed the sound of his voice and his clear-cut deductions.  

"Also, you are clearly not my doctor and do not work at this hospital, so may I ask what you are doing in my room?" Sherlock continued. 

"In a way, but no I am not your doctor. I am John Watson. I am your friend." John replied as calmly as he could, trying to keep all the emotion he was feeling out of his voice. 

"Friend?! I have no friends! Where is my insufferable brother?" Sherlock said sharply, there was a look in his eyes that John had not seen in a very long time. 

John hang his head a bit at that as he felt his heart drop, Sherlock didn't remember him. 

"Let me go get your doctor and Mycroft." John said as he moved towards the door, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went. 

**He is awake. Get here now. JW**

**On my way. MH**

**Does he remember? MH**

**No. JW**

After sending the doctors in, John sat in a chair outside the room and waited for Mycroft to arrive.  He felt like there had been a moment of hope and now he was losing Sherlock all over again, like Sherlock was falling and John still couldn't save him... 

He heard Mycroft approaching down the hallway, his umbrella tapping beside him. John looked up and saw a look sadness on Mycroft's face. 

" I am sorry, John. Let me go in a see what the doctors say." He then entered the room and closed the door behind him. 

John sat waiting for Mycroft to come back out of Sherlock's room. He knew that he could be in there right now as well, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He just sat there thinking about what he would do now, now that Sherlock didn't remember him at all. Would the memories come back some day? Or maybe they could start anew. Though it would be heart crushing for John going back to just friends after being so much more. Could he do it though, for Sherlock?

He was jerked out of his thoughts at Sherlock shouting at both the doctors and Mycroft in his room. 

_"What do you mean I have lost the last five years of memories!!"_  He heard Sherlock shout. 

John covered his face with his hands, wishing he could be there for Sherlock. Maybe he should just go, Mycroft would contact him with any news. Though, the thought of the tiny flat that waited for him didn't sound good either. 

A half an hour later, Mycroft stepped out of Sherlock's room. 

"It would seem Dr. Watson, that my brother remembers everything up to five years ago." 

John had heard Sherlock shout this, but hearing Mycroft confirm it, made it hurt even worse. Five years ago, was just before John and Sherlock had met in that lab here at St Barts. 

"Do the doctors think memories will return?" He asked holding his breath for the answer. 

"They do think that there is still a chance his memories could return over time. I am sorry. I know how much you cared for my brother." 

"Cared for him? I LOVED him more than anything." He paused "I still love him." He added quietly. 

Mycroft merely nodded at the statement, before turning and walking towards the nurse's station. 

John waited until everyone had left Sherlock's room before he went in again. 

Sherlock seemed to be sleeping, so John quietly began to pack up his belongings. There was no reason to stay anymore, since Sherlock was awake and didn't know who he was anyways. 

John wasn't sure what he was going to do now, for the last two months, he had just been thinking about Sherlock waking up and being okay. He thought about how bad the last two years had been and how close he had come to ending it all. 

He turned to pick up his book that had fallen on the chair next to the bed and found Sherlock staring at him. 

"I'm sorry, I just have to collect my things, then I will be gone." He said quickly unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. 

"Mycroft said that we were indeed friends, though I find this hard to believe as I have never had a friend." Sherlock said thoughtfully.

John knew this to be true, how his heart ached for Sherlock. He decided Sherlock needed to know that he was loved even if he didn't remember John or what they had been. 

"Sherlock, it's true, we were friends, best friends and just before...well just before you disappeared two years ago, we had become a bit more than that." He paused, as Sherlock just stared at him in disbelief.  John wondered what things Sherlock could read off his face. 

"I don't want you to feel obligated to be either my friend or anything more then that." John continued. "I want you to take your time, heal and then let me know." 

With that he turned and picked up his bag and started for the door pausing for a moment to look back at Sherlock.  

"You should know that life without you, is not life to me." He added quietly, before walking out the door.  

It was one of the hardest things, John has ever done. He didn't want to pressure Sherlock into anything he didn’t want or would regret later.  So, he walked away, leaving his heart behind as that would always belong to Sherlock.  


	2. Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is released from the Hospital and John moves back.

"SHERLOCK!! SHERLOCK!!! NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!" John screamed as he run towards the front of St. Bart's, knowing what he would find when he got there. Only Sherlock wasn't laying on the ground covered in blood, instead he was standing there in his long coat and scarf. He turned and looked at John with a puzzled look on his face. John could see half of Sherlock's curls were shaved off the side of his head and the stitches that laced across there were bleeding. 

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we have met?" He said reaching out his hand towards John, it was badly cut and bleeding as well. 

 

John sat straight up in bed, calling Sherlock's name, his heart pounding, another nightmare, it had been a few weeks since they had been this bad. Mostly because he had been sleeping in Sherlock's hospital room up until yesterday, when Sherlock had woken up and not remembered him. 

John tried to lay back down hoping for a few more hours of sleep with no dreams. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it showed 6am. He sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the palms of his hands, He might as well get up at this point. 

He wondered in to the kitchen and started the kettle for tea. He should really start thinking about going back to work, maybe he should call Sarah and see if they still needed him a few days a week there. As the kettle went off, John also heard his phone ping in the bedroom. 

The noise of both the phone and kettle made him jump in the quiet morning. Man, that dream had really shook him, He thought, turning off the kettle and walking to get his phone. 

 

I wanted to let you know that Sherlock is going to be released on Friday. I am worried that without you, he may turn to drugs again. Would you be willing to move back to Baker Street to help him? I understand this is a lot to ask and would of course pay you for your time. MH 

 

John scoffed at the last part as he stared at his phone. Mycroft offering to pay him to care for Sherlock was insulting. But could he move back in to Baker Street with Sherlock? Sleep in his old room upstairs instead of sharing Sherlock's? How hard would that be? To be around him each day unable to touch Sherlock or kiss him? Feeling like his heart was slowly being tore apart every moment that Sherlock didn't remember him. But living without Sherlock, while he was dead, hadn’t work either. 

John shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think about how many times, he had stared at his gun and thought about ending it all, during that time. 

 

I don’t want your money. I will do this for him. JW 

Thank you, John. I will send movers over tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything else. MH 

 

John drank his tea and looked around his small flat, he was glad to be getting out of there, but he never thought he would set foot in Baker Street again. Yet, here he was about to move back in with Sherlock after thinking he was dead for two years and then having him in a coma for over a month, only to have him wake up and not remember John at all. 

 

Friday afternoon, John stood in front of 221b Baker Street staring at the door, holding a box of stuff. The memories were already starting to flood in, so many good memories and a few very bad ones. John shook his head trying to clear out the bad ones and hold on to the good, but not the really great because those were also painful. Hold it together, Watson. This is only the beginning, He thought as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. 

When he began to climb the stairs, more memories rushed in, he thought of the time he chased Sherlock up the stairs only to stop and pull him in for a passionate kiss at the top, or Sherlock grabbing him in a hug, grinning, telling him to hurry up and get ready, they had a case or... No, it was time to stop those memories if John was going to make it through today. Sherlock would be here a few hours and John still needed to get everything unpacked and settled in before that. 

As he entered the sitting room, he was surprised to find Sherlock already sitting in his chair, dressed in pajama bottoms, a gray t-shirt and his blue dressing gown. His hands steepled under his chin, his eyes with their ever-changing color watching John's every move and expression. This was going to be so much hard then he originally thought it was going to be, John said to himself, as he felt the familiar ache starting in his chest. 

Sherlock looked up as though he was about to speak then changed his mind. 

John paused for a moment watching him, trying to keep his face blank, then turned to take the box upstairs to his old room. He had not been in the room, since He and Sherlock had gotten together and he had moved into Sherlock's room downstairs. 

After Sherlock had "died", John had tried living here without him, but it had become to painful. After the one really bad night, when he had sat in his chair staring at Sherlock's empty one, the barrel of his gun pressed against his temple for almost an hour. He had decided to packed his bags and move out the next morning, leaving everything of Sherlock's behind a side from one shirt that smelled like him. 

That shirt was in the box John carried right now in his arms. 

"John?" 

John stopped his back still towards Sherlock, head down, he stared at the floor, not turning to look at him. 

 

"I know Mycroft has asked you to be here in case I relapse, He of course can piss off. I don’t need a babysitter. 

 

John simply nodded his head and continued up the stairs, trying to hold back the emotions that were burning his eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks. Seeing Sherlock in his chair, angry that Mycroft had asked him to live there again, was so hard for John. All John wanted to do was drop the box, he was holding and pull Sherlock in to his arms. So, he could hold him close and feel his heart beating, But Sherlock didn't remember what they once had and wouldn't appreciate John doing that. 

So, instead he just continued up the stairs and entered his old room, setting down the box. Mycroft's people had drop everything else off earlier today, So John started unpacking, wondering how long he could put off going back downstairs. 

He couldn’t stay up here forever, he had agreed to be here for Sherlock. He knew he would have to face the music at some point. Oh God the Music. John wasn't sure how he would handle Sherlock playing his violin at this point. That was something John had always loved very much, Sherlock had been playing the night John had first kissed him... Keep it together Watson. One day at a time, you are here in case he relapses. Even if he can't remember what you had... But maybe he will... No don’t go there, just friends...just friends. Remember this. Here for him as a friend. 

John finished unpacking and finally headed back downstairs determined to keep his emotions in check the best he could. He was a soldier, he could do this. Put your Captain face on and stay strong. 

John entered the sitting room to find Sherlock typing on his laptop sitting at the desk, he was dressed in one of his suits with a tight white dress shirt on. The way Sherlock's shirts hugged his body like a second skin always drove John crazy. Worse now as he knew what lay under that shirt and he was no longer allow to touch the ivory skin that the suit hid. 

"I'm going to order takeout. Do you want some?" He said quickly turning towards the kitchen. 

Sherlock just shrugged, waving his hand in uninterested way, without looking up. 

"Don't give me that you haven't eaten all day I'm sure." John countered. 

Sherlock stopped what he was doing and looked up at John with a curious puzzled look on his face, his eyes danced a bit as he smirked. 

"Are you going to feed me up?" He said popping the P at the end as he gave a challenging look towards John. 

John stopped on his way to the kitchen and turned back towards Sherlock, catching the look. 

"Look I am trying to be your friend.... Friends take care of each other." John gritted through his teeth as he continued to the drawer that holds the takeout menus. 

"How does Chinese sound? He called over his shoulder as he rifled through the drawer looking for the menu to the place they loved down the street. 

"Only if it's to the place down the street." Sherlock answered standing only a few feet from John. He was putting his coat and scarf on as he spoke. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Out." 

"I thought we were getting takeout?" 

"No, you are getting takeout." With that Sherlock was out the door and down the stairs. 

"Oi Sherlock!" John called even as he heard the front door shut. Well day one is going great so far. John thought frowning as he called in his order, getting some for Sherlock to in case he was back in time. 

 

The food arrived some time later and John sat on the couch eating, while watching crap telly and worrying about Sherlock. Maybe he should have followed him. No, better to wait, he would text Mycroft if he wasn't home later. 

John fell asleep still on the couch and woke to Sherlock covering him with a blanket. 

"What time is it?" He asked. 

"It's after 2am." Came the reply in the dark. 

"Where did you go?" 

"…." 

"Sherlock?" John struggled to sit up, still groggy from sleeping. 

"I needed to think, to clear my head. You should go back to sleep. I will be here in the morning." 

John nodded drowsily, half gone with sleep again as he slid back down on the couch, snuggling the blanket Sherlock had put on him. As he drifted back to sleep, he thought he could feel the lightest brush of fingers through his hair. 

 

There was so much blood, so much. This soldier was not going to make it at this rate. John need to stop all the bleeding, but the wound on the back of the head was bad. He rolled the man over to hold him, only to see the dead eyes of Sherlock staring up at him. NO!!! SHERLOCK!! 

 

"John! JOHN!!!! Wake up!" 

John could hear Sherlock yelling at him. How was that possible? Sherlock was lying in his arms right now bleeding from the head. So much blood. 

John could feel strong hands shaking him. 

"You have to wake up, John!" Sherlock called again. 

"Sherlock?" John's voice rasped as he reached out his hands placing them on Sherlock's arms, slowly opening his tear-filled eyes to see Sherlock kneeling beside the couch, his hands were on John's shoulders. He had a concerned look on his face and his eyes were full of worry. 

"You were having a nightmare, I tried to gently wake you for some time. You were crying out my name." Sherlock sounded worried with a hint of panic in his voice. 

John reached his hand out to cup Sherlocks cheek before remembering he shouldn't. He dropped his hands instead looking down at them. 

"I'm sorry if I scared you. I'm okay now." With that John rolled over to face the back of the couch, he had to keep Sherlock from seeing the tears that were building in his eyes. 

This was only the first day and so far, he had cried twice, had Sherlock disappear and had a horrible nightmare. Maybe Mycroft should hire someone else to be here. John wasn't sure he was going to survive at this rate.


	3. The Elusive Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two, this was only day two... His poor breaking heart. How had John ever thought he could go back to just friends with Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got chapter 3 just right I hope! Leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or find me on twitter @Octoberisblue.

 John woke to the sound of a bow drawing across metal strings playing the most beautiful, sad music.  He could hear the graceful fingers sliding back and forth as the song poured out in to the room filling every corner. The sound made his heart ache with longing for his Sherlock, that bow and those fingers might as well be playing his heart strings instead.  

Sherlock was up playing his violin, dawn had just broken judging from the light seeping through the blanket. John buried his head farther under the blanket, willing his ears to close out the sound. In his mind he could picture Sherlock standing in front of the window behind him, most likely wearing his pajamas and dressing gown, completely absorbed in the music.  

 _Day two, this was only day two..._ His poor breaking heart. How had he ever thought he could go back to just friends with Sherlock.  

Last night after Sherlock had woke him from his nightmare and then left him alone at John's request, John had decided against moving to the bedroom upstairs. Something about sleeping up there didn't feel right. John wasn't even sure at this point if he was going to be able to stay at Baker Street.  

Baker Street had always been home, but right now the flat felt more like a memory box full of dreams that were just out of reach, taunting him with everything he use to have, before reminding him it was all gone now.  

Being this near to Sherlock without being able to touch him was already killing him.  

 _God, it was only day two._  

John quickly threw off the blanket without looking up at Sherlock and headed down the hall to take a shower. He needed a moment away from the music and the man playing. He stood under the spray trying not to think about either until the water turned cold and he had to either disembark or freeze. Stepping out he cursed not having thought to bring clothes in with him. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he hurried through the kitchen almost running into Sherlock who was headed towards his bedroom.  

Sherlock caught him by his shoulders as John nearly fell backwards. He felt as if a bolt of lightning surged through him at the touch of Sherlock's hands on his bare skin.  He wondered if Sherlock felt the shock as well, for he let go of John almost as fast as he had grabbed him. They stood there for a moment just staring before Sherlock quickly skirted around John and all but ran to his room.  

John watched him go before willing his feet to move again and headed up the stairs to get dressed.  Sherlock didn't come out of his room the rest of the day. Each time John checked on him, he could hear Sherlock typing on his computer but he wouldn't reply to John.  

 With Sherlock, things needed to be taken slowly, he was not use to having a friend yet. It had been so easy the first time for them. But this was different, Sherlock was even more closed off, like a locked room John couldn't get into. After leaving him food and tea outside his door,  John finally gave up and settled on the couch watching crap telly until he fell asleep.  

 

 

 _John felt Sherlock's_ _arms_ _wrap_ _around him as he slept, one under his head and the other over_ _his side to thread their_ _fingers and c_ _asp_ _their hands together_ _against John's chest. He could feel Sherlock pull him back_   _snuggly_ _against him_ _,_   _nuzzling_ _his nose into John's hair, his breath_ _in John's_ _ear as he whispered "_ _I've_ _got you."_ _Be_ _for_ _e_ _placing a kiss on John's_ _neck. John felt warm and_ _saf_ _e_ _in the arms of his love. He never wanted to move from this spot, fully_ _enveloped_ _in Sherlock's embrace. Sherlock's smell all around him,_ _their leg_ _s_ _tangled together as they held each other close._  

 _"I love you, Sherlock. Don't leave me."_  

 _"Never my John_ _."_  

 

"Sherlock! You up?!" Greg called out before starting up the stairs. 

John woke up back on the couch alone, feeling the loss of Sherlock's arms around him, his back aching from yet another night here. It had been one week since he moved back in and he still couldn't sleep upstairs. He and Sherlock had been dancing around each other all week, barely talking, heck they were barely in the same room. John didn't know what to do anymore, each day another part of his heart broke. Soon maybe there wouldn't be anything left to break, but still he couldn't leave Sherlock.  

"Yes, Detective Lestrade." Sherlock called from the kitchen before walking in to the sitting room. John looked up and saw Sherlock regarding him with a strange look as he took in that John had spent yet another night on the couch, before sitting in his chair, his hands steepled under his chin. Those beautiful long fingers that had held John close last night in his dream. He could still feel them on his chest as he pressed his own hand there.  

 John slowly stood up and headed to the kitchen to make tea as Lestrade entered the room. 

"I hope you are not busy, I have got a case for you." Lestrade said looking between John and Sherlock. "It’s a bit similar to a case you solved a few years ago."  

John watched Sherlock look up sharply at the Detective, his eyes dancing to finally have a case.  

"Will you come" Lestrade asked still looking back and forth between them. 

"Yes of course." Sherlock replied, standing and straightening his suit jacket, then he looked up at John. "We will be right behind you in a cab, John needs to get ready. Text me the address and the details." 

John was surprised that Sherlock would want him along after not talking to him most of the week. John abandoned the tea idea and headed up stairs to get ready as Lestrade left texting the details to Sherlock on his way down. Once back down stairs, John found Sherlock going over the details on his phone.  

"Do you remember the Case of the Elusive Heiress, John? I read your blog entry about the case earlier this week. Lestrade says the circumstances of this case are similar to that one." Sherlock finished before looking up at John standing in the door way.  

 _Did John remember the Case of the_ _Elusive_ _Heiress? How could he_ _forge_ _t_ _that_ _one...?_ _John remembered every detail of what happened_ _after_ _that_ _particular_ _case,_ _that He ha_ _dn't put in the blog._ _He remembered every heart stop_ _ping_ _beautiful_ _moment,_ _w_ _hen Sherlock had taking them to the next_ _step of their relationship,_ _once he had_ _solv_ _ed_ _the alleged_ _murder_ _._ _So_ _,_ _is_ _this_ _what Sherlock had been doing all week in his room, reading everything on John's_ _blog_? John noticed that Sherlock was still looking at him, most likely reading his reaction like a book.    

"Uhhmm yea, I remember that one. Didn't she stage the "murder", so she could disappear?" John said, then he faltered for a moment  _hadn't Sherl_ _ock_ _done_ _a_ _similar_ _act_ _just_ _a few weeks_ _after?_  He tried to schooling his face to keep his emotions from showing, but he could feel Sherlock's keenly observant eyes watching him closely. 

Sherlock seem to puzzle over John's expression before moving forward.  

"Yes, that is correct. It seems there was another high-profile body found in the same place as the Heiress's "body" was found. Only this time Lestrade believes it's not faked." Sherlock continued.  

 _John wondered if Sherlock had deduced hi_ _s reaction_ _._ _Of course,_ _Sherlock didn't know what the (fall) had done to John even if he could remember him. It had only been two weeks since Sherlock woken up and_ _a_ _t this point John_ _knew better then to hope_ _anything_ _would trigger Sherlock's memor_ _ies_ _._ _But what was_ _he_ _left_ _with,_ _if he didn't still hold on to a little hope that Sherlock would remember someday._  

"I know better than to stop you from taking this case, but try to remember you haven't been out of the hospital long?" John reminded Sherlock, knowing it would fall on deaf ears as he put his coat on and followed the detective down the stairs. 

 Once, they were in a cab, Sherlock put his phone away and turned his head towards John, looking him over before opening his mouth to speak.  

"I have spent this last week reading everything on your blog about us and everything we apparently went through in the last 5 years together. Well minus the 2 years that I was gone, which Mycroft has filled in the parts he knew of that time."  

John flinched a bit at the mention of the 2 years Sherlock was gone, the nerve was still raw and having Sherlock not remember him didn't help either. He had hoped Sherlock hadn't see the flinch, but this was Sherlock and he observes everything. He seemed to be watching John thoughtfully before continuing.  

"I wanted to ask you about the nature of our relationship. There was no mention of it in your blog and I find I am curious about it. Did I initiate it or did you? Was it an intimate relationship or merely practical?" Sherlock asked, looking expectedly at John waiting for answers, answers that John wasn't sure his heart could handle giving.  

He closed his eyes, thinking back just a bit to what they had. The memories that flooded John's mind brought tears of longing to his eyes. _He thought of_ _the moments that led up him making the first move to kiss Sherlock that night. It had been the prefect night, they had solved a case, gotten_ _Chinese_ _takeout and then Sherlock had played for John one of his_ _favourite_ _pieces. While sitting_ _there_ _watching Sherlock play for him, John had decided that it was time. He will always remember the look in Sherlock's eyes when he_ _realized_ _what John was going to do. It was breathtaking. But that was all gone and all he had left was the memories that reminded him each day of what he_ _no longer had_ _._  

John pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to keep the tears at bay as he pressed his other hand to his chest, willing the ache to stop. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, watching every movement John made, every tear that almost fell, every...everything... 

As he tried to brace his heart to give Sherlock some answers, he noticed they had arrived at the warehouse where the body was found. Sherlock shifted his attention from John to the building as they pulled up. There was a couple of cop cars blocking the road and John could see Lestrade standing out front waiting for them.  

"Come John, we have a case to solve!" Sherlock called back as he bound out of the cab, leaving John to pay.  _S_ _omethings never change._ _At least that_ _put the talk on hold for right_ _now_ _,_ _thankfully, John thought._ John followed Sherlock towards the warehouse, pasting by the coppers to reach Lestrade.  

"Lestrade, show us what you have." Sherlock said, wasting no time. He seemed to be scanning the area already, looking at the ground leading up to the building and the area surrounding it. John was sure if there was a clue to be found, Sherlock would find it. Lestrade merely nodded then raddled off a few details as he led the way to where the body was, before giving them the room and leaving to answer a sergeant's questions.  

Once in the room, John watched Sherlock observing and deducing everything at the speed of light. He loved watching Sherlock work, the way his mind flew, piecing every little detail together to make a complete picture of what happened was brilliant.  

John was completely wrapped up in his thoughts of how Sherlock worked that he hadn't noticed that Sherlock was no longer swirling around the room. He stood a few feet from John staring at him, he seemed to be puzzling out a detail that didn't fit.  

"Sherlock?" 

The detective didn't move just stood there staring.    

"Did you figure it out?" Asked John, quickly scanning the room wondering what detail Sherlock had saw just now.  

"Quick John! We have to get to there before it's too late!" With that Sherlock whipped out of the room before John had a chance to ask why. John reached to check for his gun before remembering he hadn't have it with him. _Oh well_ _too_ _late now,_  he thought, rushing out of the room to catch up with Sherlock. 

Soon they were speeding across London with Lestrade,  _this_ _must be_ _serious_ _, if Sherlock was willing to ride in a cop car._ When they arrived at the house, Sherlock had already explained that the murderer had to be there getting rid of the evidence as he could tell the body had been moved and was not killed at the warehouse by the docks.  

As Lestrade and another officer went in the front door, Sherlock and John ran around to the back.  As they slowly entered the back garden, they could hear noise coming from the shed. Sherlock leading the way they crept up to the shed door. Sherlock turned towards John opening his mouth about to speak, instead he watched Sherlock's eyes go wide. Before John had a chance to react, he felt a thud on the back of his head and the lights went out.  _How did someone ever sneak up on them?_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this so far. I hope you are loving it! There will be one more chapter. Its crazy cause this story started out as just short one, but it had more to tell then I first thought. :)


	4. My Everything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock starts to remember John after being hit on the head during a case and John is taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Sherlock's POV. Everything in Italic is either a memory or a thought of Sherlock's. I hope you all love this final chapter. I have thought about writing a short Epilogue. Let me know what you think about that. Leave me a comment or find me on twitter @Octoberisblue. Enjoy!

Sherlock's POV

 

_Sherlock looked up at the sound of a door opening, walking in was Mike and another man. Clearly an ex-army doctor going from his hair cut,_ _the way he held himself and the_ _fact he knew St._ _Barts_ _had changed from "his d_ _ay"_ _._ _Who was this beautiful_ _b_ _lond man with the_ _striking blue eyes. Sherlock was_ _intrigued_ _immediately, he wanted to learn every part of this man, what made him_ _tic_ _k_ _and_ _would he enjoy solving crimes? Wait..._ _John?_ _....._

_Sherlock entered the sitting room at Baker street to find the Beautiful Blond man sitting in the red chair by the mantle_ _complaining about needing to pay the bills. There was tea already sitting by Sherlock's chair across from the man typing on his computer using only two fingers. Sherlock's heart was filled with_ _unrequited_ _love for the man, but John would never be his...  Why_ _John?..._ _.._

"Sherlock?! Wake up are you ok?!" 

Sherlock could hear Lestrade yelling at him and feel the detective checking his pulse. But he didn't want to leave the memories of John.  _Wait how did that happen_ _? Where his memoires coming back? Where was he? Where was John?!_

Sherlock slowly opened his eyes to find Lestrade kneeling next to him. He was laying on the grass in front of the shed that he and John had crept up too.  _John! Where was John!?_  His mind screamed.He tried to sit up quickly looking around for John, but his head had other ideas.

"Easy Sherlock. Not so fast. You got hit pretty hard on the back of your head. Here let me help you." Lestrade said as he eased Sherlock up, so he was sitting leaning against the shed. 

"Where is John?!" Sherlock barked, he could feel the panic setting in, he needed to know now! 

"Sherlock..." Lestrade began. "It seems our suspects have taken him with them when they fled." 

"Why didn't you stop them!" Sherlock fumed,  _Not John, not just when Sherlock was starting to remember everything. Christ, his head was pounding. He need to think, He need to figure out where they would take him._

"Sherlock, we came running as soon as we heard you shout, but it was too late, they were already gone." Lestrade said, he looked so upset and angry about what happened, But Sherlock didn’t have time for that. He need to find John.   

He held his head in his hands trying to clear the pounding. He needed to think,  _where would they go? Why did they take John? Why had he not figured out there was two of them... John... His_ _John gone... Think Sherlock! Think! Oh!_

"I must examine the shed and house now!" Sherlock exclaimed, as he jumped to his feet and quickly went in to the shed. 

After tearing through both, Sherlock had observed everything he needed to piece together where they would head next.  _Hold on John, I am coming for you._

"Lestrade we have to leave now!" Sherlock shouted as he swept out of the house and down to Lestrade's car.  Soon they were off and headed for the airport across town. 

**I need you to ground all planes leaving London** **C** **ity** **airport** **now! SH**

**That will take time, Brother mine. MH**

**See** **that it done** **,** **Mycroft. They have John. I will not lose him again.** **SH**

**Am I to understand that you are** **remembering? MH**

**Don't ask what you already know. It's annoying. SH**

Sherlock closed his eyes, leaning his head against the seat and willed Lestrade to drive fast.  _Don’t let them hurt John._

Another memory started:

_Sherlock could see John staring_ _at him_ _from the red chair,_ _while he stood playing his violin_ _by_ _the window. The look that was coming from John's eyes was soft and full of want. Could John Watson really want him, it sent chills up Sherlock's spine and_ _made_ _his_ _heart flutter. He watched John_ _stand and slowly walk towards him_ _, Sherlock set his violin down just as John reached him. His heart was pounding in his chest as John lifted a_ _hand to his cheek gently easing Sherlock's head_ _down to press a kiss to his lips. The contact of their lips sent sparks through Sherlock's body, he reached out to cup John's face with his hands. He never wanted that kiss to end. My John... How could I ever have forgotten that_ _kiss... Forgive_ _me..._

Sherlock opened his eyes again to find Lestrade glancing at him, while they continued to race towards the airport. He just wanted to be left with his memories of John that were slowly returning to him. 

"Alright you have questions." Sherlock tried not to sign as he looked towards Lestrade. 

"Yea, how do you know they are going to this airport?" Lestrade started with. 

"I deduced which airport from the evidence left in the house and shed. Obviously, it has to be the London City airport, going from the fact the victim kept their private plane housed there. They are going to use that to flee the country if we don't get there now." Sherlock could feel what little patience he had left wearing thin as his fear for John grew. 

He closed his eyes as another memory of John came forward. 

_He could feel John's arms around him as_ _they lay on the couch in Baker street, his head resting on John's good shoulder. He had just solved_ _a case, it was_ _a_ _7_ _at least, they had been up for 16 hours straight racing through the street of London. Sherlock remembered how John had taken down the bad guy_ _just_ _in time_ _before he had the chance to draw the gun, he was carrying. Sherlock loved watching John take charge and take out a man twice his size in just a few moves. Sherlock remembered standing_ _there_ _looking down at John's_ _adrenaline_ _filled eyes and_ _thinking how much he loved him and wanted nothing more than to snog him right there in front of everyone. Instead he had waited until they were in Baker street to pull him in for a_ _passionate_ _ki_ _ss at the top of the stairs before they fell_ _a_ _sleep_ _on the couch holding each other._

_The_ _next memory,_ _they were standing in the lab at_ _Barts_ _, John was yelling "_ _You_ _Machine!" a_ _t him before storming out the door. John... So sorry John, must protect you... Love you, can't lose_ _you..._ _Forgive me...._

"Sherlock? We are here. Let's go get John back." Lestrade said before getting out of the car and drawing his gun. Sherlock followed him around the corner of the hanger.  

They were able to take the suspects by surprise, Lestrade and the other officers handcuffed them. It seemed they thought having John would give them the assurance of a successful getaway. Instead he had fought them the whole way and caused them to delay long enough for Sherlock and Scotland yard to catch up. Sherlock looked around franticly for John, finding him bound and gagged in the plane. 

"John!" He cried as he entered the plane and hurried to his side. 

"uhmaf" 

Sherlock quickly untied John and helped him up. "John, there's..." But He didn't finish his sentence, he realized he didn't want this to be the way John found out he remembered everything.  _Well almost everything._  Instead he wanted to tell him at home in Baker Street, where it would be just them.  

"Sherlock?" John looked up at him questioningly. 

"There's an ambulance on the way for you." Sherlock merely said as he helped John out of the plane and over to Lestrade.

"I don't need to be checked. I'm fine, Sherlock. I just want to go home." John gritted through his teeth. 

Sherlock nodded, he just wanted to get John home too. He wanted to share with him that he had remembered them and then they could be together again. Sherlock noticed as they walked towards Lestrade's car that John was limping very so slightly, He knew John had not been sleeping much since moving back in to Baker Street and that he had refused to sleep in the upstairs bedroom. 

Sherlock remembered when he asked John to stay in his room instead of sleeping upstairs. _It had been after He had solved the Case of the Elusive Heiress,_ _they_ _had come home afterwards and falling on the couch together. After a few sleepy kisses, while they were lying there, coming down from the post case_ _adrenaline,_ _Sherlock had decided he needed more, more John. He had merely stood up, held his hand out to John and lead him down the hall to his room. Together they had striped to their pants and climbed in, each reaching for the other as they snuggled up, legs and arms_ _intertwin_ _ed before falling asleep. That had been the most restful_ _sleep_ _Sherlock could remember, he never wanted to sleep apart from John again after that night. The next_ _morning,_ _they had a lie in, followed by_ _passionate_ _kisses and gentle touches_ _as they explored_ _each other's_ _bodies._

Sherlock opened his eyes to see John staring at him from the other side of the car. His eyes were sad, as they watched Sherlock. _Soon John soon. They just need to get home. What was taking so long..._

 _"_ Sherlock?" John started. 

_Oh no it's John's we need to talk voice...Please just wait until we are home. It will all be ok then. Once you know I have remembered,_ _everything will be like it was before. Before the fall when we were together... What if John can't or_ _won't_ _forgive him?_ _Sherlock hadn't thought of that... Please John,_ _please_ _wait..._

"I think" John continued. " I'm going to need a few days away from Baker Street. I thought I could do this, be there for you as a friend and as much as I want too, it's also killing me. It's not your fault you can't remember me or us and I feel like we are just walking on egg shells around each other every day. I just need a few days away to sort things out." 

John seemed to pause as he looked over at Sherlock. Sherlock hoped his fear of John leaving wasn't showing across his face.  _Should he say something? Was John waiting for a reply? What could he say?_

"John, we are almost home and I would like to talk about this with you there. I have a few things I would like to say to you and after that if you want to leave, I will understand. _Please, please don't leave_ _me..._

John remained quiet for the rest of the ride home. Sherlock could hardly stay still, his fingers drummed on his bouncing leg the whole ride. He could see Lestrade keep check on them in the mirror, but he never said a word. Once they arrived at Baker Street, Lestrade simply stated that he would need them to fill out statements in the morning and not to forget. Sherlock tuned him out as all he could think about was telling John that he remembered.

As they entered the sitting room, John made a beeline for the kettle, while Sherlock tried to decide if it was better to tell him standing or sitting in their chairs, maybe they should be on the couch? He looked up to find John watching him from the kitchen.  _Chairs,_ _defiantly_ _their_ _chairs..._ Sherlocksat, his hands steepled under his chin and waited for John to finish the tea. Neither of them spoke until the tea was made and they sat across from each other. 

"John.." Sherlock started, he felt his voice catch in his throat. "I wanted us to be home and alone when I told you this." 

John watched him, his eyes were full of questions, Sherlock wondered if John knew what he was about to say or if he had wanted to talk first. Sherlock needed to get this out, he needed to tell John. 

"It was 10 o'clock that night... I was playing Bach." Sherlock was almost whispering. He watched John look up sharply at him.  "You were sitting in your chair watching me play as you always did. You had slowly stood after a while and walked towards me, there was a look you gave me, I felt like your eyes were seeing straight to my heart." 

He could hear John suck in a breath as the look of disbelief shown on his face that Sherlock was remembering everything leading up to their first kiss. Sherlock's nerves were on edge, but he continued. "You pulled me down into a mind-blowing kiss. I knew right then that I loved you more than anything and always would." 

He paused here and looked John, who had his head in his hands and his shoulders seemed to be shaking.  

"I was so angry, for so long Sherlock. I was angry that you had died and left me, only to find out two years later that you were never dead. I was angry you didn't tell me, but you were injured and, lying in a coma, so I couldn't be angry at you, I just wanted you to be okay. I thought for so long that I had meant nothing to you, because if I had you would never had jumped." 

Sherlock felt the tears start to fall from his eyes as he watched John, who still had not removed his hands from his face. He reached out and placed hand on each of John's knees. 

"John, I will never be able to say sorry enough for what happened. I had to jump that day. I never wanted to leave you and thought I could do it all in a few weeks and be back. But it took much longer to find the last sniper, your sniper... I couldn't tell you until he was gone. After I took him out, I was captured while trying to heal from my wounds and then tortured, that is when MI6 found me." 

John slid his hands down his face, wiping the tears away as he went, before looking up at Sherlock. Sherlock then stood pulling John up in to his arms, pressing him against his chest and laid the side of his head on John's. How he missed the feel of John in his arms as he held him.  He felt John wrap his arms around him and grip the back of his shirt, holding on like his life depended on that grip. 

"Never leave me again, Sherlock. I love you and I don't think I could live through that again." John said his voice tight, Sherlock could feel the tears still falling from both of their eyes as he held John tight. 

"Never My John. I love you and it would break me to be apart again." He whispered in John's ear, before pulling back far enough to press a kiss on his lips. "You are my everything

**Author's Note:**

> I know I left it on a sad note, but it just felt right. I am writing a second part so don't worry! Let me know what you thought of this one. It was my favorite so far. :)


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